Not Fine
by Through the Mirror Darkly
Summary: After the Scoobies and her mother's words, Buffy comes to a hard decision because she realizes everything is not fine.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy at all.**

Summary: After the Scoobies and her mother's words, Buffy comes to a hard decision because she realizes everything is not fine.

Set: Post Dead Man's Party

* * *

**NOT FINE**

So she killed Pam, and everything was supposed to go back to normal.

Everything was supposed to be okay now the baddies were dealt with. Xander popped a joke, but Buffy said nothing because the truth was...it wasn't okay. It wasn't fine. Nothing was going back to the way it was because she had a hard realization come to her.

She kept her face bowed as she made her way soundless up the stairs and finished packing her bag. Xander, Willow and her mother trailed after her worriedly. Joyce gaped, "Buffy what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Buffy's voice was even.

"After everything," Xander was the first to snap, "you're still leaving?"

"Why not?" Buffy turned them. She was done taking the hits, done feeling guilty about something she couldn't change. And honestly she wouldn't have changed it if she had tried. "What's keeping here, Xander? None of you have made any indication that you wanted me here. In fact you seem like you'd rather I had not returned at all."

"Buffy, that's not true," Willow protested.

"Really, Wills?" Buffy gave a sarcastic sort of smile. "Really? Because it sure feels like it."

"You think you have it so hard, don't you?" Xander snapped. "I'm the Slayer-"

"Shut up!" Buffy turned to him, looking disgusted. "You act like I have no reason to be hurt, that I'm in the wrong. Abandoning you all. Yeah, I ran away. Was it a brilliant idea? Not exactly my finest, no, but I had every right to run. I have every right to the way I'm feeling, and you sit there and tell me to open up. Not to bottle it up, but that's exactly what you want. You want me to be pretend that we all good, that nothing has changed, but it has. Ever since Angelus happened, it's all changed," Buffy's voice lowered into a near whisper. "I'm tired pretending that at the end of the day, that everything's okay. It's not fine. I'm not fine."

Joyce stared at her, tears welling up in her eyes. "Buffy, let's just talk this out-" Joyce began, but a hazel eye glare was tossed in her direction.

"I tried," Buffy told her, viciously. "I tried talking it out, but every time I tried to confide any of you, you acted like I didn't exist. Or worse, you treated me like something you scraped off the bottom of your shoes." Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she stomped past them and down the stairs and out the door no longer listening to their protests. She paused when she saw Giles, standing there waiting.

His face held nothing but kindness. Not judgment, no anger and Buffy knew that out of everyone he was entitled to be angry with her. He sighed quietly, "You're leaving again?"

"Yeah," Buffy nodded.

"Where to?" Giles inquired softly.

"Los Angeles," Buffy told him. "Maybe San Francisco. I'll figure it out as I go."

"If you..." Giles wanted to stop her, ask her to stay, but he found that he couldn't. How could he keep her here in a hell where she didn't feel at home anymore? "If you ever need anything, my dear girl, you call me. And promise me...you'll at least check in."

"I will," Buffy nodded. "I promise."

The two of them stood there, then Buffy launched herself into Giles's arm, hugging him tight. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for understanding. Thank you for having my back."

Giles held her, and blinked away his tears then pulled back. "Always," he promised.

Buffy pulled back and nodded. "Goodbye, Giles," she smiled at him.

"Goodbye, Buffy."

And he watched her walk out into the night, and disappear into the shadows. Joyce stomped over to Giles, "Aren't you going to stop her? You can't let you her go!"

"I didn't do anything," Giles countered, darkly. "That was all you. Buffy came to you for understanding, and compassion, for forgiveness. And instead of giving her that, you treated her like she was in the wrong and we both know that while Buffy is not perfect, she was not in the wrong. Not this time."

"But Giles," Willow looked at him, "who will guard the hellmouth?"

"The Slayer," Giles told her. "Faith is her name I think. I called her watcher a couple of days ago."

Xander frowned. "Why did you do that?" He asked.

Giles looked at him, coolly. "Because Buffy deserves her rest, deserves a chance to be something other than the Slayer. One would think as her friends and family, you would have understood that."

He turned and walked off.

* * *

It had been six months since she had departed from Sunnydale, and she found herself in Los Angeles waitressing during the day, and slaying at night. She was busy cleaning up a table, when she felt something not entirely human approach her from behind. Carefully she slipped her stake out of her sleeve and into her hand and turned with a pleasant smile, "Can I help you?"

He didn't look not human, but that could be an illusion. He stood a little taller than her with dark brown hair and the clearest greenish blue eyes that she had every seen. He gave her a lopsided grin and held out his hand. "Buffy Summers?" He asked.

"Who wants to know?" She shot back, tersely.

"I'm a messenger from the Powers That Be," he told her, his Irish accent coating each word and she found herself slightly weak at the knees because what kind of girl didn't like an accent? "You can call me Doyle."

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**I really don't know why I felt compelled to write this one shot, perhaps one day I'll turn into a long fic or something, but anyways, I hope you enjoyed!**


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